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A hand closed across her mouth, to keep silent her screams, to make sure she wouldn't tell.

"A familiar story, right, Mister Mason?" a little girl asked. A little dead girl, with her fairy princess costume torn, and blood stains here and there. A little dead girl named Suzette, who had just finished playing out the last events she ever knew, for the man who had killed her.

Larry Mason was in his 60s now, not the young man just back from overseas, who had done terrible, terrible things to a little girl one Halloween night. He had gotten away with it, and had almost forgotten about it completely. He was an old man, with a wife, and grown children, and grandchildren of his own. And he was shaking like a leaf, pale, sweating, trembling noises that might have been meant to be the word 'no' being uttered but was instead just a terrified moan fluctuating up and down. He had no idea where he was, how he had gotten here. He had just woken up, lying on the cold ground. It was the same street where it had happened. Where he had done the things he had done. Just up ahead there was the house he had taken Suzette into to perpetrate his evil.

Suzette, a little girl with blonde curls and bright blue eyes, her innocent tone not shared by the dead, emotionless expression on her little face, called out, "Hey, Mister. Let's go back into the house, okay?" "No!" Larry finally managed to get out something intelligible. Shaking his head, he turned to run away from all this. It had to be a nightmare. It couldn't be real, no matter how real it felt. But when he turned away, he found himself at the base of the steps leading up into the house. He lurched and windmilled his arms desperately trying not to fall. His heart was jackhammering in his chest, and he was gasping for air despite barely taking a single step.

Then the door slowly swung open, creaking, and when he tried to back up, he felt a cold little hand pressed against his back. And he heard a gleeful little voice say, "Go on in, Mister. Get your candy." Then a tidal wave of spiders came swarming out of the house, slamming the door the rest of the way open. Larry Mason screamed, and tried to run, but he was too slow. The spiders washed over him, infiltrating his clothes, his ears, his nose, his mouth, and as he fought to get air, as he was choking on arachnids, silencing his struggles and cries, as he saw the dim light of a jack-o-lantern across the deserted street right before the spiders carried him inside the house, and the door closed shut forever, he heard Suzette's voice, crystal clear.

"Trick-or-treat, Mister Mason."

Some time later, when the holograms and the props and the animatronics and stage set had been disassembled and packed up, a creature that might have been a woman, in armor reminiscent of both bats and skeletons, with a ragged cloak trailing out behind her, left a letter on the floor next to the unconscious body of Larry Mason. It read simply, 'Turn yourself in, or this will keep happening to you every day for the rest of your life.' A little jack-o-lantern sticker was stuck to the bottom of the letter.

Cemetery had no doubt that Mason would comply. But if he didn't, she had worse ready for him. For now, the 'vengeful ghost of Gotham City' that has been appearing on and off in the paper and news shows slips out of the warehouse that she, only a half hour ago, had its interior made up to look like a deserted street. Cemetery launches a barbed chain from her armor that looks less technological and more magical, despite her armor and devices being purely scientific. It latches onto a building's ledge dozens of feet above her, and the 'ghost' 'flies' up into the night sky, leaving a traumatized man behind - one who no doubt deserved far worse than simply being reminded of his crimes in a way that would ensure justice was done.

->

"No way… Green Arrow doesn't wear a hood. I saw his reward poster a few years ago when I was in Seattle. Dude totally wears a minstrel cap. And I'm definitely sure the Arrowcar isn't a Mustang."

Sure, it's the time of year that a superhero can go out in costume and feel normal. But it's also the time of year when a superhero is most likely to meet someone else who is dressed in exactly the same costume. While trick or treating wasn't exactly on Green Arrow's agenda when he decided to take the new Arrowcar for a patrol, he's somehow found himself in the middle of an argument with a kid who appears to be between the ages of ten and twelve.

"A reward poster? Now I know you're full of sh-crap. You would have been like… four then? And I already told you, this is the Backup Arrowcar. The regular one is in the Arrowcave for repairs." The argument is somewhat good natured, but even so Ollie is getting a bit frustrated. Having your wardrobe and tech picked apart by a trick or treater isn't fun for anyone.

"Nuh-uh. I was eight and I remember everything about it. Plus, even if Green Arrow did wear a hood, you've got tons of other defects in the craftsmanship of your costume. It looks like you sewed the hood from a Friar Tuck costume onto the bodysuit of a Power Rangers costume. And what's up with those arrows, are they even functional? I built mine from papier mache, without any adult supervision."

It's true, the kid's costume is pretty sweet, complete with red gloves and boots, a red-feathered cap, and even a glued-on blonde goatee. He's even using a real youth-sized hunting bow. Clearly worked hard on it.

"Fine. I'll prove I'm the real Green Arrow. See that building over there?" The kid nods that he does in fact see it. "Okay, keep your eye on it or you might miss it."

Green Arrow quickly pulls out an arrow, nocks it on his bowstring, and fires it off toward the top of the highest building on the block. A thin metal wire is left behind, which he attaches to another arrow and fires at the ground. Now, with a taut zipline affixed to both the roof ledge and the ground, he attaches his motorized getaway device to the cable and is pulled along the wire's length to the roof and out of view.

The kid is not impressed. "He probably bought his costume. I made this shit."

Now with a different view of the surrounding environment, Green Arrow is just in time to catch the tail end of Cemetery's performance. Or at least the part where she re-emerges from the building.

"No friggin' way! I know who that is!" He pulls out his binoculars to make sure.

->

The ghost flies up to a rooftop, cool blue-white sparks spraying every which way from the metal chain and how it's designed to do exactly that. A special effects wizard knows how to emphasize theatrical aspects of crime-fighting, at least. She lands, but perhaps not as heavily as one might expect for a figure in heavy metal armor. It is also rather quiet, comparatively, though there is SOME noise. Rubberized joints, insulation, and padding distribute weight and keep the actual metallic parts from clanking around. When the ghost rises from her crouch, she stands and looks down at the warehouse. But she isn't seeing it. Instead, she is trying to see a ghost. Cemetery eventually turns to the side and sees her. Suzette's ghost. Pale, bloody, dead. Not gone yet. "What else is needed of me?" Cemetery asks, her voice modulated by her armor to sound like dozens of different voices all at once.

The ghost girl says nothing, and just stares at her avenger with big blue eyes… Glassed over from the effects of death. Perhaps it is not until he actually is arrested. Cemetery should make a call. Ensure an ambulance is on its way. She flips a switch inside her armor's left arm, and fires a small black dart from the armor's palm. The dart dials 9-1-1 and sends an electronic message calling for an ambulance at the dart's location - determined through GPS.

Cemetery knows even before she looks, because she feels the pressure in her head lessen just a little bit with one more soul gone. But even so, she checks. And Suzette is gone.

She is thus not aware of anyone who might be coming up to her location or sneaking up on her.

->

'Sneaking up on' isn't perhaps the best way to describe Green Arrow's method of approaching. The best way to describe his method is to simply point to a video clip of Tarzan swinging from a vine. Swinging from a rappel rope attached to a Grappling Arrow is not the most dignified way to travel, but it gets him from the roof to the ground much more quickly than any other method he had at his disposal. It's not silent, but Green Arrow is only stealthy about sixty percent of the time anyway, so this is not really a surprise.

As he lets go of the rope, he is tossed along the wide arc that he was swinging in. A couple of Action Rolls and he springs back up to his feet, apparently completely unharmed despite just having leapt off of a building that was several stories tall.

He makes no move for his bow, and doesn't appear to have any other weapons readily available. Which either means that he's extremely confident in his pugilistic prowess or he doesn't have any intention of engaging in violence. And although most of his face is concealed by the shadow of his hood, the gleaming smile surrounded by stubble is clearly visible.